Take It All Away
by singingtothewind
Summary: What if Katniss didn't have the berries at the end of the 74th Hunger Games? Would there be two victors, one, or none? Catching Fire/Mockingjay re-write. Katniss/Peeta, rated T for PG-13 content and depression.
1. The Kill

**Hey everyone! So this story has been sitting on my laptop for a while, and I decided to upload it. It's basically a what-if story: what if Katniss didn't have the berries after the fight with Cato? What would happen? Here's my interpretation of that. I actually wrote a little drabble on this before, but the idea was really intriguing that I decided to expand on it. Warning though, it's pretty depressing, and it'll get more depressing in coming chapters. I would say 'enjoy', but...yeah. And, I know people are going to hate me for this...but a certain main character dies. Yeah. Just letting you know now.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games.**

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><p><strong><em>Take It All Away<em>**

_Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor._

XXX

"You can't kill yourself, Peeta. I won't let you," I say as I desperately plaster the bandages back onto his bleeding leg.

"Katniss, it's what I want." His hands fumble over mine as they try to keep the bandages off his wounds, but my stronger hands beat his and I plaster them back on.

"You're not leaving me here alone," I choke out.

"Katniss, listen to me." He pulls me to my feet. The bandages fall to the ground, letting even more blood spew onto the grass. "We both know they have to have a victor."

"I know. I _won't_ let you kill yourself, Peeta." I look into his eyes. They tell me something horrible.

"I k-know that, Katniss. But t-there has to be a victor. You do know what that means?" He looks at me, his eyes pale in the moonlight. His expression is stern, but tired. He seems to be losing his very essence as I watch, and I am helpless to stop it.

_So, in a way, my name being drawn in the reaping was a real piece of luck._

I almost gag. Because I do know what he means. And I could never, ever do it. I couldn't. I can't consider what Peeta is suggesting.

"No."

"_Katniss_." He reaches out for me.

"I_ can't_ kill you Peeta. I won't." I turn, but he grabs hold of my shoulder.

_Katniss? How about that kiss?_

"You have to, Katniss. I'm dying anyway," he says, gesturing to the blood on the grass. What a kick the Capitol must be getting out of this. It's such an emotionally heightened moment, they must not be able to turn away from the tragedy slowly unfolding. Every television in Panem is tuned in to us, every eye looking at the screen. No one is turning away. The Games are still not over, and the pinnacle of it has only just begun.

I shake my head vigorously. "_No_, Peeta."

"What other alternative is there?" he asks, cupping my face in his hands. I look into his eyes, his face, watching as it grows weaker every moment. I realize...there _is_ no other alternative.

I think of nothing that can save us both; nothing in the world that can get us out of this horrible situation. I would never let him kill himself, have him leave this world on his own. And even if he were to kill himself, how would he do it? He is too weak to take my arrow to his own heart, to crack his own skull, anything. And letting his own blood seep from his leg would take a long time, endangering my health as well as his. If he kills me, he might still die anyway from his wounds, and there would be no victor. But even if he _did_ live, Panem will look on him as a liar, protecting me one moment, then killing me the next. District 12 would renounce him, reject him for doing such a thing. And he would never let me kill myself. Even if he did, he would just commit some sort of suicide when he gets back home. He loves me too much to live without me now. If we both kill ourselves, our families, our entire district would be in turmoil, punished in their lives because we can't be in death. The citizens of the Capitol would be furious, crying fowl at the Gamemakers for letting it happen. President Snow would be mocked and hated. Snow would not allow that; he would subdue the districts and hurt people in the process. Nothing good would come out of it if any of these scenarios happened. But if I were to kill him, even with the guilt weighing down on me for the rest of my life, I could learn to cope. The Capitol would be angry, but satisfied. Hate me, but not enough to kill me. District 12 would shun me, but not as much as they would Peeta, because I am not the star of our little the show; he is. Over time, I would learn to live, because, I _can _live without Peeta; and he can't live without me.

Or at least I think I can live without him.

I don't know what else to do.

"I can't kill you, Peeta." My voice breaks. But I know that I must.

He kisses me on the forehead. "I'll die...die anyway, Katniss. At least you'll go home. At least District Twelve will have a victor."

_Your hand shot right up in the air. She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us. And I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent. And right when your song ended, I knew — just like your mother — I was a goner._

Tears fall from my cheeks. I cannot lose the boy with the bread. I cannot lose my fellow tribute, my 'lover', my…"There has to be another way, Peeta-"

"Katniss, there isn't. Just kill me." He slowly backs away from me. I try to run after him, but he just shakes his head. There is nothing left for me to do. I look down at my feet, pretending I am back in the woods in District Twelve, far away from here. Pretend I am with my father, singing mountain songs and hunting game and picking greens. Pretend that I am anywhere but here, pretend I am someplace else where the Capitol won't touch me, where the country won't look at me through their screens. A place where Peeta is safe, where my father is alive, where Rue glides through the trees like a bird, where my mother and Prim laugh in happiness, and the whole world is not subdued to such torture by the Capitol.

But there is no such place. Because this is reality, not fantasy. And nothing will get me away from the arena unless I do the thing I dread most: kill Peeta.

"Katniss." I look up. Peeta's eyes are pleading with me to do the deed. He looks weak; he is growing pale and he is shaking. His leg is soaked in blood, and he is surrounded by a pool of it. He will die very soon. Painfully. The life seeping from him like a bee bites through the skin; excruciating and distressing. An arrow through the heart would be better, less painful. A clean shot would end his pain in a matter of minutes, maybe even seconds.

_Peeta, you said at the interview that you'd had a crush on me forever. When did forever start?_

"Kill me, Katniss." The clock is still ticking, the Games not over, and every second he grows weaker. My options are all expired, my own health growing dire.

He bores his eyes into mine, pleading for me to kill him. I cannot refuse. He won't let me.

Slowly, I pick up my bow and arrow, my arms shaking. In one second, my arrow is notched at his heart.

_The more likeable he is, the more deadly he is._

"Peeta...I...I'm so…" Tears run down my cheeks, and I make choking sounds as I gasp for air.

"I love you, Katniss." He tries for a smile, what could be his last smile.

_Winning…won't help in my case. _

_Why ever not? _

_Because…because…she came here with me. _

The arrow pierces his heart.

XXX

Peeta drops to the ground immediately, letting out a groan of pain. He clutches his chest, his hands swimming in an ever-growing pool of blood. I drop my bow and run toward him. I rush down, and grab hold of his hand, clutching it in both of mine, not caring about the blood. He coughs up more of it, spewing it mostly on me. His eyes are glassy, but staring at me.

I adjust my position and put his head in my lap. "Peeta! Stay with me!" Tears flow down my cheeks.

_She has no idea. The effect she can have._

"Peeta!" I kiss his lips. "I'm sorry...so sorry..." I am choking, on air, on his blood, on saliva. I begin to feel like my latest meal might be making a reappearance, but I immediately discard that thought from my mind.

He looks at me, and tries to smile, but immediately begins to cough up blood.

I clutch his hands, trying as if to pump life back into him. But it won't. Nothing will bring him back from this.

"Peeta, please, stay with me!" My tears fall onto his cheeks. He smiles again, moves his mouth as if to utter a word. But of course nothing comes out, because he starts coughing up blood again.

For the next few moments, all I do is wail as his chest moves up and down ever so lightly, his eyes struggling to stay open, but death taking him under. And there is nothing I can do about it. Nothing, because I killed him. And Peeta will never be coming back.

_I want to die as…myself. Does that make sense?_

The cannon fires.

"PEETA!" I yell. I am crying now, crying so hard I cannot breathe. _What have I done?_ I think. I have killed my friend. I have killed the boy who did _everything_ to protect me. I killed the boy who could charm the most depressed person on the planet. I have killed the boy with the bread.

The trumpets blare. I cry harder, pulling my hands from around his cold ones, and put them on Peeta's cold, dead cheeks. I can't breath, I can't think, I can't do anything but cry out my heart as I lie next to the corpse that was once Peeta Mellark.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen! The tribute of District Twelve!" I hear a few cheers and boos as they turn on the speakers live from the Capitol. But overwhelmingly, cries. The Capitol is not happy with my last choice in the arena. District Twelve is not happy.

I am not happy.

Two hovercrafts arrive; one to carry me away and one to carry Peeta's lifeless body away. I move to lean against his chest, weeping even harder. I wrap my arms around him, as if to shield him from the world. But I am disgusted with myself at killing him, heartbroken at his death, and going slowly insane as the weight of his loss bears down on my shoulders.

Claudius Templesmith speaks again, saying congratulations on my victory, and that if I could please move away from the body, it can be moved out of the arena and I can board my own hovercraft.

My eyes snap open. I look up at the hovercraft. How could the Capitol do that? Ask live over the speakers, so all of Panem can hear me be mocked as I weep over Peeta. How could they ask that, in that way, when I am supposed to be the star-crossed lover of District 12? And I am sure now, with me weeping, and refusing to move away from Peeta's body, that I look like a real lover, horrified at his death and refusing to leave him even when he's gone. The Capitol's request, and the way they requested it, drives me further over the brink.

If they want a girl gone crazy with love, they will have it. Because with the fact that I took Peeta's life, the fact that the Capitol still controls me even as I weep, drives me insane with rage. My sadness has transformed me, like my transformation from a girl from the Seam to the Girl on Fire, into a person gone insane at the sight of her lover's death.

I stand up, remove my hands from Peeta's face, and scream at the top of my lungs in the direction of the hovercrafts. I do not care that I look like a lunatic on national television, because I _am_ a lunatic; a girl gone insane with sadness and rage at the carnage she has seen, the boy she has lost, and the wretched things she still has to face even after she leaves this arena. I get up, still yelling, and run around the Cornucopia, sobbing and yelling and cursing the Capitol for making me get to this point. For having me kill the boy with the bread. For putting us all through this inhumane game of killing each other for the Capitol's entertainment. I stomp at the ground, sobbing, throwing my arms around, ripping my hair out, defaming the Capitol with rebellious words, not caring that all of Panem may be watching this or even that the Capitol has cut to commercial. Because I have truly gone off the deep end.

I think __I wish I were dead__ as I run, screaming my head off, beating at the ground, clawing at my own face and hair, ignoring the trumpets still blaring. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. And I will, if I keep going at this rate.

As I turn away from the Cornucopia, back to Peeta's body, I throw my arms out, yelling at the stars to kill me. To let me be with my father and Rue and Peeta Mellark. But of course, my wish is not granted.

And of course, I do not even register the tranquilizer piercing my neck.

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><p><strong>So how was it? Let me know in a review, please. Chapter Two should be up soon (ooh, that rhymed lol).<strong>

**-singingtothewind**


	2. The Victor

**Hey everyone! Here's Chapter Two! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games.**

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><p>The morphling, a powerful painkiller drug, has pulled me under and leaves me in a dreamy, cloud-filled existence. I have visions of my father, chasing me through clouds as I laugh and run away as fast as I can. My mother is there as well, tickling me and hugging me, something I would never allow her to do in reality. Rue is there as well, jumping across the clouds, sidestepping me and diving beyond, smiling as she goes. I turn around, and see Prim running toward me, a huge grin on her face, her arms wide open.<p>

The visions shift. I am now in a clear, sunny forest. There is a cloudy sky above me, and there are daisies scattered across the ground. My loved ones, living and dead, are having a picnic. My father is handing out the napkins, my mother and Prim are each taking a sip of water, Rue is there, jumping towards the picnic basket, and Gale sits by my father, eating a chicken bone.

And there he is. Standing right in front of me. Smiling, his blue eyes glittering in the sunlight. Peeta.

In this drug-induced world, Peeta is here, alive and healthy. He is smiling, beckoning me forward. I think he is leading me to the picnic blanket, but instead, leads me into the trees. He walks facing backwards, still smiling, calling me forward. I follow him, trusting him, let him lead me on. I am smiling and laughing at him, and he blows kisses at me. All I know and see is that he is there; happy, healthy, in a place where no one can hurt him. I think I feel my mouth moving, forming words, but the words are lost to me as it echoes across this dream world, rebounding off the trees, causing the mockingjays to pick up the call. I think I hear Peeta respond, but I can't make out what he says, because all at once, he disappears in a puff of smoke. The dream dissolves, the trees are gone, the mockingjays are no longer singing. The next thing I know, I am falling into oblivion, the clouds becoming human-looking, all of them grabbing at me as I fall.

XXX

After that, I drift in and out of reality. Feel the nerves in my fingers. Breathe in and out. Lift my head slightly. Smell antiseptic. But I can't speak, can't hear, can't open my eyes; I am in total darkness. And then, I shift back into the dream world again, but Peeta is the only one with me now. I drift in and out of each world, and each time, I grow stronger, feel myself more anchored to the Earth, like a magnet pulls its opposite charge. The final time I see Peeta in the dream world, he kisses my cheek, I think. But it feels like moth wings on my skin.

When I truly wake up, the first thing I see is a large, dark form standing over my hospital bed. My eyes adjust to the light, and I breathe through my mouth. The form moves slightly towards me, and when my eyes finally adjust, it is Haymitch standing over me. He sighs and sits down in a chair that has been set up next to my bed, and looks down at me.

"Katniss." I turn my head away from him, even though it gives me cramps in my neck. I can already feel the cries I am struggling to push down my throat, because, as reality sets in, I remember all that has happened and why I am in this bed and how I got here.

"Katniss, look at me, please." When I don't move, he gently twists my head so I am looking up into his face.

Haymitch gets right to the point of the matter, just as he always does. "Katniss, Peeta's dead. His body arrived in District 12 three days ago, a few hours after they pulled you out of the arena. They're cremating him."

A moan escapes my lips as I think of Peeta, not even in a graveyard where people can visit him, but in a vase, pushed to the back of a shelf in the Mellarks' home, like a thought pushed to the back of the mind. I cannot fathom it.

"Katniss. Tonight is the post-Games ceremony. Tomorrow is the interview in your rooms at the Training Center. Then we go home. You're still not completely healthy yet, but I gave them the okay to cut back on your morphling supply." He pauses, looking into my eyes that are so like mine.

Another cry escapes my lips, but he plows forward. "Just get through these next two days, and no more of the Capitol. Well, until…" He doesn't even need to finish his sentence, because I know what he is referring to.

Haymitch lets go of my face, stands up, and turns as if about to leave. He rubs his hand across his mouth, starting to walk, but after I let out another involuntary cry, he turns around. Leaning down, he strokes my hair. I recoil at his touch, since all I connect Haymitch to, in regards to me, is hate.

"Katniss, just stay up and eat something now. Okay?" His voice takes on a more condescending tone. He scowls at me to confirm he still dislikes me. But before leaving, he whispers in my ear, "It's taken care of. You'll thank me later." All I have time to dwell on is the smell of white liquor on his breath before he leaves.

After Haymitch has left, the red-headed Avox Girl, my servant at the Training Center, enters my room and gives me something to eat. It takes me a long time to digest the cup of water, slice of bread, and the strawberry I eat, but she eventually helps me up and leads me outside, to where Cinna is waiting to take me to my rooms to prep for tonight's ceremony.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss," he says as he gathers me into a hug. Tears form in my eyes, and I try not to get mad at Cinna. He has truly seemed concerned for me, almost a friend to me before the Games, so now, he must truly be sorry for me and my loss, because he wants to comfort me. But I don't want anyone comforting me, because it was my own fault Peeta died in that arena, and no one should feel sorry for me. All they should feel is hate and resentment. I can't say I wouldn't blame anyone who does.

"Let's get you upstairs." He takes my hand and leads me to an elevator. It turns out the hospital is ten floors below the main entrance to the Training Center. Within seconds, we have reached the twelfth floor. Cinna leads me to my room, where my prep team, Octavia, Venia and Flavius await me.

"Beauty Base Zero," Cinna utters, gives me another squeeze of my hand, then leaves the room.

XXX

Within three hours, I have been remade to look as natural as possible, but acceptable for TV. Since I ripped out patches of my hair in the arena, Flavius has had to add strings of fake hair to make my hair look fuller. I ask if the fake hair comes off, but all he says is they'll come off when my hair grows back in. Octavia has cut my nails into perfect oval shapes, my arm and leg hair have all been ripped off, and my scars have been taken care of by the Capitol; after I had been airlifted out of the arena, they had surgically removed all of my scars and wounds, including the ones I'd made hunting in the woods over the past four years. My ear, which seemed to have lost its ability to hear after the explosion in the arena, is now running better than ever. Venia pats some light blush and minimal eye shadow to my face, and I am now at Beauty Base Zero. Venia goes to fetch Cinna for my dress, but neither Flavius nor Octavia talk while she is gone; all three of them have barely uttered a word at all the entire time they've worked on me. All they have said is instructions to move my head this way or that, to lift my arms and move my hands, but no small talk at all. They've been looking gloomy, and trying not to stare at me the whole time. I expect it's because they don't know what to say about Peeta's death. It's fine though; soothing not to hear constant chatter. I'm glad they haven't said anything about the Games at all.

Cinna enters the room with Venia, carrying a yellow silk dress. He drapes it over my body, then goes back outside to get a white, glittery cardigan that reaches just below my breasts. I lift my arms and he lays the soft fabric over my shoulders. I lift my feet, and Cinna puts two yellow sandals on. He adds a clip, which looks like a flame, to my hair, adjusts my makeup, and leads me to the mirror. I look like a candle; the white cardigan looks to be melting like wax whenever I move, the yellow dress a candle flame. The clip adds a nice touch. I look innocent. Girly. Not a girl who has killed four people in a fight to the death, and one of them supposed to be her lover.

"She looks wonderful," whispers Octavia.

"It looks great, Cinna. Thank you." The first words I have uttered since I left the arena. My voice is croaky, weak, tired. I'd rather not have to use it again.

"It's almost time. Let's give you something else to eat before we get going," says Cinna. He leads me outside to the dining room where a single dish topped with chicken, peas, and a loaf of bread along with a glass of water lay. I gulp it down in a few minutes, and then Cinna, me, and my prep team are all walking into the elevator. We get off at the level where the tributes trained before the Games, and walk outside until we reach a dark, empty room; we are below the stage set up outside the Training Center.

"It'll be fine Katniss. Just keep calm. You'll get through this." Cinna squeezes my hand, smiles and thanks my prep team, then walks away. I croak out a thank you to my prep team as well, then they depart to their places where they must also ascend to the Training Center.

I am left alone in the dark. I hear noise, but it's coming from above. The deafening roars of the crowd vibrate through my bones, sending a chill down my spine. My hands are shaking, palms sweating, and I am beginning to feel queasy. I do not want to be here, to face the Capitol who hates me. I hate them too. I keep wishing that I weren't here, that I was in District 12, that Peeta was here to calm me down-

_Peeta's not here to comfort you. You know why? Because you killed him! _You_, you stupid girl! And he'll never be here to comfort you again!_

My mind is racing, I feel like I am going to faint, but in what feels like seconds, I feel my metal plate being raised up. And despite my tries, I think again that I wish Peeta were here.

XXX

I am met with the roar of the crowd. The cheers are greatly outnumbered by boos. I try to smile, but my mouth feels strained and I can barely move it. I feel like a statue, unmoving, unemotional, unfeeling. Finally, my limbs decide to cooperate with my brain, and I step off the plate. I stagger over to Caesar Flickerman, who welcomes me and calls to the crowd to pipe down. He shakes my hand, and leads me to the victor's chair where I will have to watch a three-hour recap of the Games. This will be beyond painful; it will make me even more suicidal than I already am. I will have to relive the Games, watch all the tributes die, watch Peeta-

I shake my head. Peeta. Tears burn in my throat.

The lights dim, and the giant screen set up in the City Circle lights up. The seal of Panem shows, the anthem begins and ends, then the show begins. First is the reapings, then we whiz through until they show the victors' carriages parading through the streets of the Capitol. It is horrible to watch, since nearly everyone onscreen is dead.

Then we get to the interviews. Me, looking like a silly little girl twirling for Caesar. Then Peeta. I bury my head in my hands, cover my ears, not caring they are probably filming my reaction to this live across Panem. All I care about is not seeing the boy with the bread confess his love for this insane, murderous, manipulative girl who is me.

I look up just as we see me running from the Cornucopia at the start of the Games. Soon enough, Peeta's there again, teaming up with the Careers to protect me. Tributes dying. Me dodging firebombs. Peeta whispering my name in his sleep. Me strapped up in a tree. Tributes dying. But finally, when we get to Rue and the alliance, my eyes are glued to the screen in horror. I cannot stop watching, even though I know this is the point where I _should_ stop watching. I am riveted. When Rue dies, I nearly start crying again. But the show has not really begun until Claudius Templesmith announces two tributes from the same district can live this year instead of one.

I try not to rip my hair out again.

We cut to me finding Peeta in his camouflage by the stream, our scenes in the cave, what could actually look like me falling in love with him. At this point, I truly cannot stop watching, although I am grabbing a hold of my face and moving it back and forth as if willing this all to not happen, although it already has.

The remaining scenes mostly cut between a few shots of tributes dying, and Peeta and I. The star-crossed lovers of District 12. By the time we get to the part where I go to the feast to fetch the medicine for Peeta's leg, I am on the verge of sobbing. But after that, I simply bury my face in my hands. When we get to the last part of the Games, I move my hands away from my eyes and lock them on the screen.

I see Foxface collapse, the nightlock seeping into her veins, killing her in a matter of minutes. I see Peeta throw the rest of berries away, because he didn't want us to accidentally eat them too. I watch Cato's gruesome death in full, horrified at what exactly the mutts did to him. And then, it's just me and Peeta left, gazing up at the stars, having our last, calm moments together.

I am in danger of screaming out at the stars to kill me again.

But I can't stop watching. Because of the roar of the crowd, the cries getting louder, more prominent, Caesar making noises that sound very much like groans, and the fact that this is the moment of my life that will be imprinted in my brain forever; for this is the moment when I kill Peeta. And the entire world has seen it. And now, so will I.

Once we get to the scene where I shoot Peeta in the heart, and then when I start to insanely run around the Cornucopia, I truly lose it. I let out a long, blood-curling scream, raise my arms up on the sides of the chair, get up, but immediately fall back down.

For I have just fainted on national television.

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><p><strong>Let me know how it was! Chapter Three should be up soon :) Please review!<strong>

**-singingtothewind**


	3. The Interview

**Hey everyone, here's Chapter Three! **

**I just want to say to all the lovely people who have reviewed...THANK YOU! The feedback means a lot to me, and I really appreciate that you like this story. Thank you so much =D**

**While I'm talking about reviewers, I just have a question to ask: Am I writing well in Katniss's voice? Does my writing style seem like something Katniss would say/narrate? I just want to make sure I'm doing it right. And of course, if you have any other constructive criticism, please let me know, it is greatly appreciated :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>Peeta is in my dreams again, caressing me and smiling at me. We are sitting in the forest again, on a picnic blanket. He looks alive, healthy, strong, and his blue eyes look tender and warm as the skin around it crinkles as he laughs. We do not move off the picnic blanket, but just sit and talk, looking into each other's eyes as if nothing is the matter. It feels like hours, even days have peacefully gone by.<p>

Peeta is caressing my face now; he is touching my cheeks, my forehead, my chin, the sides of my face. But soon though, the caresses he gives me turns into a painfully apparent tapping across my cheek bones. I call out to him, to ask him why he is tapping my face. He is about to open his mouth to answer when the dream collapses. I open my eyes, and I am looking up into the face of the Avox Girl; she is the one who is really doing the tapping to wake me up. As my eyes adjust to the light, she stops tapping and holds out her hands. I immediately grab on. She pulls me up into a sitting position, then walks over to the menu on the wall and points, as if asking what I would like to eat. I croak out, "Ham and eggs. And orange juice." I put my head in my hands and bring my upper body down to rest on my knees.

The Avox Girl taps me on the shoulder, and I look up to see her with a dish and cup in her hands. She hands me the cup, and I sip the juice until there's nothing left. She hands me the dish as she goes back to refill the cup, and I gulp the food down in two minutes. She hands me a bread roll and the cup, then grasps my hand. I look up at her, but she is already walking out of my bedroom.

XXX

The few minutes of peace I felt when the Avox Girl was here is all gone in ten minutes, because my prep team has arrived to get me ready for my post-Games live interview with Caesar Flickerman. When Venia pops her head into my bedroom door, I nod at her, then get out of my bed to take a quick shower. After I am cleaned up, they begin their work on me. There is no small talk again, just little instructions to move my head this way and that, to move my arms, lift my legs, brush my hair away from my face. As Octavia works on my nails, I catch Flavius looking at me like I have five heads; he immediately blushes and looks away. I catch Octavia and Venia looking at me too from time to time, but they just frown and look away from me, getting back to work.

As Venia, Octavia and Flavius finish up their work, my nerves catch hold of me and I start to worry about the upcoming interview. _How should I present myself?_ I think. Should I seem like a mad, traumatized girl (which, if I'm being completely honest, I am), or would that turn the audience off to me more than I already have?

_Why should you care what they think, anyway_, I wonder bitterly. _They've hated you since the moment Claudius Templesmith announced that you both couldn't go home. _I feel sweat forming on my palms, feel my heartbeat start to race, but I ignore it and try to push the thoughts of the interview out of my mind.

Soon enough, Cinna enters my room carrying my dress. He helps me into an orange chiffon dress, then puts me into a black cardigan-sweater. The designs and textures on both make it look like the flames of the dress are eating up the blackness of the sweater. But the black sweater also gives me a completely separate impression from the flames.

Haymitch wants me to be in mourning.

"Did Haymitch request for the black…" I can barely finish the sentence.

"Yes. I thought it was also…appropriate, given the circumstances." Cinna catches my eye in the mirror, and his expression says it all: _It's better to make you look like a girl gone insane than just another heartless victor. _He's right, of course; it would be better if I at least _tried_ to get some sympathy from the districts and the Capitol, rather than rage. But what do I care, anyway? My mental state is already unhealthy as it is that I don't need to be worrying about what the whole country thinks of me.

Cinna adjusts the single braid beginning from my scalp down the length of my hair, then helps me into black, low-heeled shoes. He puts my mockingjay pin to my chest, then steps back as he and my prep team examine me for any finishing touches.

"Perfect," whispers Octavia.

"Thank you so much, all of you. You did a wonderful job. Katniss, I just have some advice for your interview…" My prep team leaves the room, and Cinna quietly shuts the door behind them.

He walks over, and takes my hand in both of his. "Katniss, I should tell you now…after you fainted last night, they couldn't present you with the victory crown. So before your interview today, President Snow will be here to present it to you instead," Cinna tells me.

I swallow hard. President Snow. Here. In the living room. Greeting me as if I am a good friend. Congratulating me on my victory. Wrapping me in a slithery embrace for the cameras. I almost faint again.

I nod. "Okay. T-there's nothing I can do about it, anyway."

Cinna smiles at me and takes my hand. "It will be fine," he whispers in my ear.

Cinna and I walk out of my bedroom and make our way to the living room. Haymitch catches sight of us and walks up to meet us. He pulls me aside, then leads me down the hallway toward the bedrooms and whispers in my ear, "How are you?"

"What do you think?" My voice catches on the last word.

"Katniss, we only have a few seconds, so listen closely: you're already in a depressed mood right now, so just…keep acting like it. The audience will be more sympathetic towards you that way."

"Why should I care what they think?" I ask stubbornly. "_They're_ the ones who watch us get thrown into the arena and die like wild dogs. What do they expect?"

Haymitch grasps my shoulder. "Do it for Peeta. For District 12. For your family. Don't make them hate you more than they already do." With that, Haymitch gives me a sneer and stalks off to chat with Portia, Peeta's stylist.

Peeta. Oh, Peeta.

I swallow hard, then walk back down the hallway to the living room. Cinna is waiting for me down the hall, and puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder, guiding me further into the room. Effie Trinket, my escort to the Capitol, is there, and she greets me with a light kiss on the cheek and a curt, "I know it wasn't your fault Katniss, you don't need to tell me."

"Okay, Effie," I mutter. She smiles at me with her green lips, then adjusts her emerald green wig.

"Good luck with your interview, Katniss. We're all rooting for you." She strokes my arm, then walks toward Haymitch in her high-heeled pumps.

_Oh please_, I think.

I walk closer to where the cameras are set up, and Portia, Peeta's stylist, greets me, giving me a hug, offering condolences over Peeta's death. I smile at her, but when I look into her eyes, all I can imagine is her standing behind Peeta, both of them looking at him wearing his pre-Games interview outfit in front of the mirror.

After she says good luck to me, I am thrust into the middle of last minute makeup and costume adjustments by the cameramen's assistants. I catch Haymitch's glance, and he gives me a slight nod of encouragement. And then I am shoved right into the view of the cameras and the countdown starts.

XXX

"Five, four, three, two, one…"

"Ladies and gentleman of Panem, welcome to our Post-Games interview! Please give a warm welcome to the victor of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen, the tribute of District Twelve!"

Caesar Flickerman walks over to me in his blue outfit, blue hair, and blue makeup, and eagerly shakes my sweaty hand. He keeps up a good-natured expression as he talks about the Games, stopping a second for a moment of silence for Peeta, then introduces President Snow.

"As you all may have seen last night, Katniss suddenly became violently ill, so there was no way to give her the victory crown! Well, good thing our president was available, because now he can present it to her right here in her living room! Everyone, please give a warm welcome to our president, Coriolanus Snow!"

President Snow slithers toward me, coming from the right side of the cameras, a child by his side, carrying the victory crown on a velvet pillow. _How did I not see him?_ I think. _He was only two feet away from the camera!_

He glides towards me, and gives a sloppy kiss on my cheek. His mouth pulls back into a wide grin, pulling his lips back to reveal his bloody gums.

"I present Katniss Everdeen with this crown, marking her as the victor of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. Congratulations, Katniss!" He gingerly picks up the crown from the pillow, and places it on my head. We stand next to each other for a few seconds, posing for the cameras. Snow is smiling, an excited look on his face, while I am by his side, grimacing at the camera, trying to smile, even though I just can't. He says goodbye to the cameras and the people of Panem, shakes Caesar's hand, slops one last kiss on my cheek, then departs from view behind the cameramen.

I want to throw this stupid crown out the window.

After Snow leaves, Caesar makes a few comments, asking me to twirl in my dress, admiring my crown, and laughing because he's thinking of taking it from me. I give a half-hearted smile at that, but I'm actually thinking, _Oh Caesar, take it from me, please._

Caesar gets back on track and we take our seats on matching mahogany chairs, and the interview begins.

"So Katniss, what has being winner of the Games felt like?"

_Suicidal, Caesar._

"Oh well…" I avert my eyes to prolong the moment, and take a few deep breaths. "Not very good, as you can imagine."

Caesar takes my hand. "I _can_ imagine. After all that you went through…" Caesar turns toward the cameras. "Can _you_ imagine winning like that?"

_Thank you, Caesar. _

He asks me more questions, about my costumes, my alliance with Rue, being the first victor of District Twelve in almost twenty-five years, makes a few comments poking fun at Haymitch, and all I do for most of the interview is shortly answer each question, but mostly make sniffling noises, laugh a little, rub my eyes as if brushing away tears, and avert my gaze from the cameras, making me look as if I am a very emotionally unstable girl. And throughout the whole thing, I am only wishing I were far away from the Capitol and safe in the arms of District Twelve; safe with Prim and my mother, and safe with Gale, picking greens in the woods. These thoughts get me through the interview. But the worst question, the one question everyone is waiting for, the question that will set me free, is about to come forth from Caesar's lips. And for this question, I think I may actually faint again.

"So Katniss, I've asked you about so many things already, but there _is_ one topic that everyone is really waiting to hear from you. Your district partner, Peeta Mellark-"

I make a shrieking sound and bury my face in my hands. But this is not just for the cameras, because any time anyone will utter Peeta's name for the rest of my life, I will be taken down by waves of overwhelming dread and guilt.

Caesar leans over and rubs my arm encouragingly before continuing. "Your district partner, Peeta Mellark. Your lover, your…last kill. Everyone is wondering what was going through your head when you killed him." He puts his chin in his hand and gazes at me.

I do not look up for a few more moments, because I am making whimpering sounds and truly crying into my hands. But finally, I do look up, and the makeup my prep team applied must definitely be smudged across my face.

"Oh Caesar, do I really have to answer that one?"

"Everyone is…hoping that you will." His eyes truly look sympathetic.

I rub the tears from my cheeks, take a deep, shaky breath, and begin talking, because I know that this will be Caesar's last question. And then I can go home.

"I…it was the worst moment of my life. And…I wish it had never had to come to that." I avert my eyes from the cameras and bury my face in my shaking hands again.

Cut.

I hear a few sniffles coming from Caesar, but then he finally wraps it up. He wishes me well, then bids Panem goodbye.

"Stay tuned tonight for a special airing of commentary of the Games by Hunger Games experts at 10! And Katniss Everdeen, we'll see you on the Victory Tour!"

I am free.

XXX

Strong arms pull me up from the sofa, and they lead me away from the noisy living room. I bury my head in the person's chest, knowing it is Haymitch leading me to my bedroom. When I hear the door open, I open my eyes, and carefully remove myself from his arms to collect my few possessions. As soon as I am done, Haymitch takes me into his arms again and I let out a few wails. After a minute or so, Haymitch sets me down on my two feet, and leads me out of the room into the hallway.

"Take care, Katniss." Cinna smiles at me and gives me a warm hug. He pushes a slip of paper into my hand, and says, "If you need someone to talk to, just give me a call." I smile and thank him.

Portia comes up to me, gives my hand a squeeze and bids me goodbye, then Effie walks up to me and hugs me so hard my bones ache.

"Oh, six months is so far away! It'll go by so quick though; we'll be seeing each other _very_ soon!"

_Oh Effie, I wish I would never be seeing you or any other human being ever again._

I say goodbye to my prep team, wave at everyone else, then Haymitch takes me by the arm and leads me outside to the elevators. Thankfully, President Snow has already left, so I don't have to deal with another slithery kiss from him.

We make our way outside of the Training Center to where a car awaits. I climb inside and immediately put my head down and take a nap. The next thing I know, Haymitch is prodding me awake. We walk outside onto the train station where more cameras await. We wave and smile for them, then two minutes later we board the train. I still stand there by the doors, motionless, until finally the train starts moving and we are steadily inching farther out of the Capitol and towards District Twelve. Once we reach the tunnels in the mountains leading away from the city, Haymitch comes up beside me and says, "Just go and sleep now, Katniss." I take his good mentor advice and walk down the compartment. I poke my head inside a door and find a bedroom. I remove my clothes, not even caring now that I am only in my underwear and undershirt, and climb between the sheets. I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

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><p><strong>So, how was it? Please leave a review! Chapter Four should be up pretty soon =)<strong>


	4. The Return

**Hey everyone! Here's Chapter Four! This is basically a stepping stone to the rest of the chapters taking place in District Twelve. I think I enjoyed writing the previous two chapters more, tbh. But, this chapter is really sad. Really sad. I've basically been in a bubble of sadness all day, because I had to go to the Museum of Jewish Heritage in Manhattan earlier today for a school report, since we're learning about the Holocaust and all, and then I come home and I edited/uploaded this...yeah, sad day. Very sad day. :\**

**To everyone who has reviewed, _thank you so much_! I've read through the reviews, and I've seen a lot of you saying you've cried hysterically because of my fic...omg, I feel kind of bad, lol. But at least I know I'm writing this well! Okay, I'm going to stop rambling, here's Chapter 4!**

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><p>For the past two days, all I have done is sleep. Sleep into oblivion to make the pain go away. Sleep to feel alone and at peace. Sleep so I can see Peeta, safe and healthy in a drug-induced dream world. Sleep, so that I don't have to face the district and the country that hates me. I would've slept the last two weeks away too, but they were spent being trailed by the press, who followed me to District Twelve. I was forced to attend required celebrations for my victory in the Games, where only high-ranking district officials were invited. Haymitch told me to look depressed as ever for the cameras, which wasn't hard in the slightest. So for two weeks, I only stayed awake for the cameras, the interviews, the food and the dancing at the feasts.<p>

There were only two bright spots since I arrived back in my district. Parcel Day happened three days after I arrived back in District Twelve. It was a day when the children of the district were showered with gifts of food from the Capitol. Seeing the kids excited, seeing their cheeks filling up with food, carrying food home to their families, was the only time a true smile came to my lips since I arrived home.

The other good thing was seeing Madge again. Madge Undersee, the girl who gave me my mockingjay pin, the girl I would truly be making a friendship with now if not for her letting me sleep through what was supposed to be my preparations for the feasts. It didn't matter that I only ended up having ten minutes to actually get dressed and ready, but just having Madge there, holding me as I wept, stroking my hair as I cried out, was better than anything.

And now finally, the press have all packed up and gone home, the feasts have finished, and now there is no other official business for me to do. My mother, Prim, and I have moved into our house in the Victor's Village right next to Haymitch, and they have moved everything out of our old house in the Seam and into our new, large, richly furnished house. I would probably feel uncomfortable settling into a new house so different from my old one, but I don't even pay attention to it because the only thing I have become acquainted with is my bed.

And now, I should probably thank Haymitch for my current state of living. Because he was the one that immediately called Ripper, the one-armed trader in the Hob, asking for a box load of morphling drugs every month for one year. And now here I am, in bed, continuing to take morphling tablets. I have been taking them every few hours for the past two days.

XXX

Back on the train, Haymitch had told me about the morphling after I had woken up from my slumber, the following morning after leaving the Capitol. He had nudged me awake, and with the help of a Capitol attendant, led me out of my bed, from my bedroom, out into the hallway, and into the meal car. They set me down, and then Haymitch sat opposite from me and downed a glass of spirits.

"Want some?" he asked.

"Please," I replied. If I couldn't sleep, all I would want to do was drink myself into oblivion. He filled up my glass, and I took a long swig. After I had finished drinking the entire glass in a matter of seconds, Haymitch leaned across the table and offered me a bread roll.

"Hungry?" I nodded, and reached out my hand to take the bread from him. But before it was placed in my palm, the roll slipped out of his hand and fell onto the floor. Haymitch exchanged a quick glance with me, as if saying, _We need to talk. Now._ I assumed this had nothing to do with the bread roll now, and something that had to be whispered quickly and in secret under the table, because the train was probably bugged by the Capitol.

"Oh shoot," I said, already crouching down to grab the roll.

"Stupid girl, I'll get it," Haymitch said gruffly, then lowered himself onto the floor. As we searched for the roll, he whispered quickly, "That thing in the hospital I said was taken care of, it is. When you get home, there'll be a month's worth of morphling. And then another load every month for a year. Thank Ripper." And with that, I grabbed the roll near my feet, and climbed back up the side of table. We sat down, ate our food, and didn't say another word, which suited the both of us.

And now, as I wake up from another drug-filled coma, Haymitch would be the one to thank for giving me a way out of the world, but I can barely do it since I cannot even get out of my bed.

XXX

I groan as I wake up. I move my hands to my face, and rub my eyes. I shift my head around, but immediately shift it away from the window because the afternoon sunlight glares down on my face through the curtains. I lean down, trying to reach inside the box under my bed for some more morphling, but the door to my room opens. The person climbs up next to me on the bed, and leans her head on my shoulder. I do not even need to ask who it is; it's my younger sister, Primrose Everdeen.

"Katniss." Her voice is soft, beautiful like bells.

She strokes my hair. "Katniss, please talk to me." I just shake my head into my pillow, and take a deep breath. I feel terrible for shutting her out, but I can't let Prim in. I can't even open up to my younger sister, the young girl who I volunteered for at the reaping, the one girl I gave everything to protect, the girl who I have looked after all these years. I cannot even talk to her.

She kisses my forehead, and stops stroking my hair. "I'll talk to you later. Just go back to sleep now." As soon as she leaves the room, I grab a packet of morphling tablets, force them down my throat, then drift off into oblivion.

XXX

This goes on for another week. All I do is lie in bed and take morphling tablets, barely moving. I may not be functioning in the real world, but in the dream world, I am fully alive, constantly moving, always happy. We're back in the clouds again, me and Peeta. None of my family or Gale or Rue are there; it's just the two of us. It feels like years go by as we chase each other across the clouds, as we talk about everything and nothing at all, as we look around us at the clouds, as we look up as the sun rises in the morning and as the stars come up at night, and as we lie down next to each other, touching, caressing, and even kissing each other. I cannot stop looking into his blue eyes, I cannot stop touching him as we lie down, entwined as if we are two vines climbing up the side of a building. All that matters is that we are together, safe, and healthy. I don't think about anything, don't register anything else while I am with him, while I am consumed by the morphling.

Sometimes, when the effects of the morphling dissipates and I am drifting between both worlds, my mother comes into my room and coaxes water, fruit, some crackers, and anything else she can into me, but then I realize Peeta is there in the room with her as well, smiling at me, and then I feel like I'm just hallucinating.

During the week, Prim comes to my room every now and then, sleeping in my bed at night, trying to talk to me, or just stroking my hair. Since she is here for so long sometimes that I cannot take the morphling near her, I begin to realize that Haymitch hasn't called the house, and neither has Cinna, and that Madge hasn't come to visit, and neither has Gale.

Gale. Gale Hawthorne, my hunting partner. The boy who has been my best friend for four years, the boy I have exchanged all my secrets with (and vice versa), the only person who could get a smile out of me in my darkest hour. The boy I left behind in District 12. My right-hand man. _He_ doesn't even come to my house to visit me, to see how I am doing. Sometimes I get the thought that maybe I should ask Prim why he doesn't come, but actually opening my mouth and letting out words is a whole other task to even _try_ to fulfill.

The week melds into another, and another, and another, until a month has passed. All I have done for a month is lay in bed taking morphling tablets, the only real life I lead in my dreams with Peeta.

XXX

One morning, when the sun is shining too brightly on my face, when my clothes are sticking to my skin and I think my hair and body is beginning to stink, I hear the front door of the house opening. I think my mother answers the door, and she exchanges a few words with someone. I hear footsteps coming up the staircase, and then before I know it, the door to my room is opening. I don't turn my head, but the crunch of the boots on the floor says it all.

Gale's hands lightly turn me over on the bed so that I am facing him. I try not to look at him, and try to stare at the sunlight bursting through the window. But his gaze is too strong, the smell of the woods too strong, his presence too strong, until I finally have to look up at him. One look at his face, and I begin to cry.

Gale envelops me, holding me as I sob my heart out. I cry for Peeta, for having to kill him in the arena. I cry for the children in the arena who had to die, even if they were my foes. I cry for my father, and Gale's father, blown to bits in the mines. I cry, for I cannot get out of this bed, for I am stuck in this depression, for I am wishing I can die and be with Peeta, to be out of this horrible world and away from the terrible things in it. I cry for my guilt at killing him, and I cry for his family, who will never see him again, who had to watch me kill him on a television screen. I cry and cry and cry, sometimes choking on my tears, unable to breathe, my eyes bugging out of my head, gasping for air. I hold onto Gale as the waves of sobs rack my body so hard that I am wailing, so hard that my muscles and bones ache, so hard that I am making the sounds of my heartbreaking moans echo across the entire house. At one point, I scream out that I wish I had died in the arena, and Gale just grabs hold of me harder, stroking my hair. I embrace him back, holding on for dear life as I continue to sob my heart out.

After what seems to be like hours, I finally stop crying. Only little hiccups come out of me now, but my face and clothes are drenched in my salty tears, and I am coughing from sobbing so hard. Gale pushes me back a bit to give me some air to breathe, but still hugs me. His shirt and hunting jacket are drenched with my tears too, but he doesn't seem to mind. My mother opens the door and comes to me, removing me from Gale's embrace, but I begin thrashing around in her arms because my impulses are still as if I were in the arena, thinking another enemy has come to kill or torture me. But all she does is carry me to the bathroom, Gale helping her as I continue to thrash around. Once I am settled, he steps out of the bathroom and closes the door. When the door closes, I pick up my arms and let my mother remove my shirt, revealing my protruding ribs. After I am completely naked, she leads me to the bathtub, where the foamy water looks calm and inviting. As I lay in the water, she shampoos my hair, and sings a mountain song my father used to sing with me. I join in with her at one point, but I immediately stop because I am thrown into another round of coughing. After I am dried off, she puts me into warm pajamas and feeds me eggs and pancakes in bed. Gale is not in the room any longer, but that's okay, because I fall asleep in my mother's arms.

XXX

For the following week, I lie around in bed taking morphling tablets, eating, singing, crying, and sleeping. My mother sees me everyday, but doesn't force me to leave the room. She just comes to bathe me, feed me, and coax me into sleeping. She doesn't know that I have a supply of morphling under my bed, and hopefully she won't find out for a while. Gale visits me once during the week, and then on both Saturday and Sunday. During those times, my mother sets up a tray on my bed and together we skin the game and clean the greens he has gotten in the woods. We never talk, but just having each other there is enough. He doesn't ask if I'd like to go hunting in the woods like old times, because I think he knows that I will not be up to it; hunting deer or making snares will remind me too much of hunting tributes in the arena.

My sister visits me every day, and she reads to me from her history textbook she uses in school. I don't know why she reads that and not some story, but I don't care, because her voice lulls me to sleep most times. Madge finally has come by during the week, but I don't talk with her either. She usually brings along bowls of strawberries Gale has brought from the woods for us to eat, and some knitting supplies of her mother's to pass the time with. It is relaxing whenever Prim, Gale or Madge come to my room; sometimes, I feel more at peace with them than I do in my dreams with Peeta. It is refreshing, but not enough for me to truly leave this room and go outside to face a district that is angry with my last choice in the arena. I am still broken, and who knows if I will ever truly heal.

One day in late July, Prim asks me, "Katniss, do you want to read the rest of the chapter?" She moves the textbook slightly towards me. I shake my head, but she just asks again. "Do you want to read from the textbook?" I shake my head again, but this time, she says, "Please read it, Katniss. Read it for me." She points to a picture of an old map. I look up at her, her eyes pleading with me. And without further questioning, I take the book from her hands, but only because the look in her eyes remind me too much of Rue's as we talked on the day we became allies, eating groosling over the fire.

I smooth out the page and begin reading. My voice is croaky at first, and I go through a fit of coughing, but finally, I can speak, even if my voice sounds hoarse. "The government of North America was different than the government of Panem…" I keep reading, wanting to know more details about this different kind of government, but of course the textbook does not give further information. I don't know if it's because people can't remember what exactly the government was like, no one cares, or the Capitol doesn't want dissent among the districts if this government actually was a better system than the one we have now. I suspect it is a combination of all three.

I lose myself in reading, because I don't feel like myself anymore. I am enraptured by the book's words; my depression, stress, and the weight of living through every day have seemed to be lifted off my shoulders. I only know what the textbook tells me, and I don't think about the problems facing my life right now; I almost feel happy. When I am done reading the chapter, Prim cuddles into my shoulder and sighs before closing her blue eyes. But for the first time since she has read her book to me, she falls asleep before I do.

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><p><strong>Yep, sad, right? Okay then, Chapter Five should be up soon! Oh yeah, and I thought I would address this: this story is basically what would've happened if Peeta had died, and my interpretation on that. So, this story is going to be LONG. Like, basically the rest of the series, without Peeta and with other tweaks here and there. I have a lot of the story mapped out in my head, but I'm not sure how I'm going to end it...so yeah. Just thought I would let you know.<strong>

**-singingtothewind**


	5. The Fight

**Hey everyone! Here's Chapter Five! Btw, I took the liberty of naming a few characters ;)**

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><p>On the first day of August, my mother asks a favor of me.<p>

My mother came into my room to feed me breakfast. After eating, she poured us both a cup of tea, and we sat on my bed in silence, quietly sipping. My mother had been reading her newspaper for most of the time; she had tried to start up a conversation with me, but it didn't go very far because I never said anything back to her. But now, as she is putting down the newspaper to pour another cup of tea for herself, she asks me, "Katniss, do you mind going into town to Rooba's? I need some lamb for dinner."

I set down my mug of tea on the tray she set up. "Are you too busy to go?"

"I am. It'll only take about twenty minutes. A short walk, really." She pours more hot water in her cup, steam billowing into the air.

"Mother, I don't think I can-"

"Katniss." She sets down her cup and takes my hand in both of hers. "Just three pieces of lamb. And then you can come right back upstairs to your bed." The look on her face tells me that I have only one answer to give her. There is no way I am getting out of this.

"F-fine. When I'm done with my tea, I'll go." I take my mug off the tray and take a long sip.

"Thank you." My mother leans down and kisses me on the cheek, then picks up her cup again to drink.

I know my mother could very well find time to get the meat herself, but I know she's just trying to get me out of the house. She's trying to bring me back out into the world, out of my bed, because we both know it has to happen already. She won't force me to go outside every day to face my district, but she will force me to leave the house in little pieces, readying me for a full return. As much as I'd like to, I can't spend the rest of my life in this bed. We both know that.

After we finish our tea, my mother helps me get dressed into pants and a clean shirt. She puts my father's old leather hunting jacket over my shoulders even though it's summer, and I am immediately enveloped in the scent of the woods. I shudder, realizing I have missed this scent very much.

My mother braids my hair down my back in front of my mirror. I look at my reflection, and am taken aback, since this is the first time I have looked at myself through a mirror since being in the Capitol. My cheek bones are protruding more than they should be, and my skin is yellow; if I squint, it's almost sagging. My eyes are bugging out of my head, and I think I see hair growing along the front of my ears and over my upper lip. My eyebrows also look very bushy. On top of being hated, I will now be mocked because of my appearance.

I convince myself that I do not care.

My mother hands me some money, then we walk outside my room together. My mother leads me through the house, since I don't know how to get around it myself. The only time I saw the first floor of the house was when I first arrived after the Games, but I didn't take much notice of it, since I ran upstairs immediately to the nearest bedroom. I notice that it is nicely furnished and that the white paint along the walls almost shines. I see a beautiful rug in the living room, and Prim's books and paper lying on the coffee table. I see the telephone attached to the wall outside of the kitchen door, and I remember Cinna handing me the piece of paper with his phone number on it. I almost want to call him, but I can't remember where I put the paper.

My mother opens the front door and leads me down the front steps to the sidewalk. I am surprised by how cold it is, since we are in the full swing of summer. It feels like a chilly autumn day; a shiver runs down my spine. I think, _Autumn also means…_

No. I will not think of _that_. Not yet. Not when I have just hastily swallowed down my fear and left my own house for the first time in months. I think maybe that fear will puke itself back up when I leave the Victor's Village and walk into the eyes of District 12, but I immediately swallow that thought away too.

"Why is it so cold?" I ask my mother.

She just shrugs. "It's supposed to be this cold for the rest of the week." She leads me down the street until we enter the pathway that leads to the district square. My mother stops there. She puts her hands on my shoulders, and kisses my cheek. "I'll see you in a few minutes." Then she walks back towards our house.

I stand at the entrance to the path for a few moments. Why would my mother leave me behind? I know she thinks that I have to get back out into the world sooner rather than later, but she could at least go there with me. She must know that the entire district hates me.

_She thinks you're strong enough to go on your own _I think. As soon as I think it, I know it must be true. But what my mother doesn't realize is that I am really _not_ strong enough to do this on my own. I'm still broken, and I need someone next to me while I am facing my district, as much as I hate to admit it.

_What if they don't despise you?_ a part of me wonders. I shake my head, dismissing that thought. Of course they hate me. I killed my district partner, my star-crossed lover, of course they hate me. They will frown at me and whisper behind my back, because I am the one who killed Peeta, and I know this district will never forgive me for it, no matter the circumstances.

I glance back at my house, and I see my mother on the front porch, smiling at me encouragingly. I take a deep breathe and start forward along the path, wishing this will be over with as fast as possible.

As soon as I reach the square, what feels like a hundred eyes glance in my direction. I look down, watching my feet as I make my way towards Rooba's butcher shop. People part past me as I walk, leaving me a clear path to my destination. I push away the feeling that people are only leaving a path for me because they don't want to be anywhere near me.

Soon enough, I arrive at Rooba's. When I walk through the front door, she looks at me, walks out from behind the counter, and gives me a warm hug, to my surprise. I tell her that I need three pieces of lamb for my mother. She tries to give them to me for free, but I refuse and put the money down on the counter before she can try and convince me further.

"Be strong, Katniss," she says, setting the bag of lamb in my hands. Rooba opens the door for me and pats my shoulder before I walk out the door. I walk down the street, surprised by Rooba's kindness. Am I really imagining that the whole district hates me?

I walk through the square, people still leaving a clear path for me, whispering and staring as I pass them. I move my feet along faster, and soon enough, I am very close to the pathway back to the Victor's Village. But before I reach it, I hear a yell that makes my bones shake.

XXX

"You! YOU!" I hear a storm of feet coming in my direction, and I turn around; my heart almost stops beating.

It is Peeta Mellark's mother.

I breathe harshly as she and a group of men and women follow behind her. She has a look of rage in her eyes, and her face is beet red. I spot Peeta's brothers behind her, tears in their eyes and their faces beet red as well.

I shake my head vigorously, willing this not to happen, willing her and the crowd to go away. But as much as I try, they only walk even faster towards me.

"YOU!" She shouts again. She stops two feet in front of me, glaring down at me.

"How DARE you show your face in the town square! After what you've done!" She reaches down and pulls on my hair.

"Who told you to get out of that house? WHO?" She puts her hand under my chin, grabbing at me with her long fingernails.

"I…I…my…" I can't speak; my voice catches in my throat and I begin to cough. I am terrified by Mrs. Mellark's rage. There is a large part of me that can't believe that she would attack me so cruelly in front of the district, and a paralyzing fear of her races through my veins. I wonder how much farther she is willing to go in front of everyone in the square.

"Stop coughing, you murderer, and look at me!" She pulls on my hair and shoves her hand further under my chin, pushing my face up to look at her.

I feel like I'm about to vomit.

"My son may not have had the guts to kill you in that arena, but me, I can kill you in your _sleep_." She pulls harder on my hair. Tears form in my eyes, and I begin to register shouts from a rapidly growing crowd. Shouths of assent at Mrs. Mellark.

"You get that scum, Edith!" a man shouts at Mrs. Mellark.

"She deserves it!" jeers a woman.

"She disgraces our district!" someone else shouts.

Mrs. Mellark grabs another fistful of my hair, and then she pulls back her other hand to smack my cheek. My ears ring and my vision blurs. I gasp and shut my eyes. I feel a kick on my foot, then a snap, making me cry out. My eyes open, and I look up into Peeta's mother's eyes, begging her to stop.

"Please…" I gasp. The pain is growing in my foot like a fire, and I can barely move it. She just smirks at me, and pulls back her fist, about to punch me again. But the punch never comes.

"STOP!"

Mrs. Mellark turns around. I look past her shoulder, and I gasp again.

It is Peeta's father.

He runs towards us, his face red and his apron covered in purple icing. Mrs. Mellark steps back just an inch, her hand still on my hair.

"Stop, Edith, stop." He reaches us, and pulls his wife's hand out of my hair.

"Why should I stop Patrick, when she killed our son? She deserves it!" Some people in the crowd cheer in assent.

Mr. Mellark just shakes his head, pulling her away from me. "You should stop because she doesn't deserve it. She's already broken. She knows what she did. Give her a break, she hasn't been at peace and happy since the reaping."

Mrs. Mellark's lips quiver and her face grows redder. "But she deserves it, Patrick. She should pay for what she's done!"

Mr. Mellark just shakes his head. "She doesn't deserve this. She was in the Hunger Games. She's paid more than she needs to."

My eyes fill with tears. _Thank you, Mr. Mellark_, I think.

He lets go of his wife's arms, and walks toward me. He takes the bag of lamb from where it fell on the ground, and gently takes my arm.

"Where are you going?" yells Mrs. Mellark.

"I'm taking her home." He glances at the crowd. "Don't any of you have work? Leave! There's nothing to see here!"

The crowd begins to disperse, and Mr. Mellark leads me down the path to the Victor's Village. I have never heard Peeta's father say so much in just a few moments. I am even more taken aback that he said it all for me, in my defense.

We walk down the path in silence. Mr. Mellark lets me lean on him since my foot hurts every time I step on the ground. Once we reach my house, I pull away from Mr. Mellark and vomit on the grass. He holds my shoulder as I puke out my insides. When I am done, he takes a napkin from his pocket and wipes the vomit from my mouth. I try to say thank you, but I'm afraid that if I talk, I'll start coughing or vomiting again.

"Katniss? Patrick?" My mother bounds down the front steps and steps onto the front yard. She rubs my arm as she asks, "Patrick, what happened?"

"Something involving my wife." He explains how he heard a commotion while he was inside his bakery, and when he saw his wife threatening me from the window, he walked outside and stopped his wife from hurting me anymore.

"I'm sorry, Juna," he tells my mother.

She sighs, a crease forming between her eyebrows. "And…the crowd? How large was it?"

He frowns. "Pretty large."

She nods. I notice her hands are shaking as they hold my shoulders. She leads me inside the house, with Mr. Mellark following us inside. I see Prim sitting at the kitchen table reading a book. When she looks up, she makes eye contact with me, and bounds up from her chair and runs toward us. "Katniss, are you okay?"

My mother sits me down at the table, and then Mr. Mellark says, "I'm so sorry Juna, I didn't know my wife would do something like this-"

"It'll be fine Patrick, it'll be fine. We'll… we'll just move on from this and…we'll see how it goes." I look up at Mr. Mellark, and notice the look in his eyes as he stares at my mother. I remember what Peeta said about his father liking my mother back in the cave-

I slam my fist down on the table. No. No. I will _not_ think about Peeta.

"Thank you, Patrick, for bringing Katniss home." My mother brushes her hair out of her eyes.

"It was no problem. And I will be speaking to my wife about this-"

"Patrick." She puts her hand on his arm. "Don't worry. Please. We'll…discuss this some other time." She glances down at me as she says this, a look of concern on her face.

Mr. Mellark nods, and she leads him down the hallway to the front door. When my mother comes back, she takes off my hunting jacket, then washes my face and rubs my cheek with ointment where Mrs. Mellark hit it. She gives me tea, which I sip hungrily. I tell her that my foot aches, and when she rubs my big toe and the two toes next to it, I cry out in pain. When she rubs my ankle, I cry out again, and she says that they're broken. Prim helps her put a cast around my foot, then they help me up the stairs to my bedroom. Prim gives me crackers and fruit and my mother gives me more tea. She also gives me morphling ("Just a bit for the pain", she says), which makes my stomach churn with guiltiness, since I have a whole box load of morphling right below my bed.

My mother and Prim stay with me for a few hours, and we play card games. I don't have the energy to be angry at my mother for sending me to town on my own, because I don't want to ruin the entire day for her and Prim. After the card games, we talk, and while my mother tells us a story about her friend getting lost during the annual Harvest Festival, I fall asleep.

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><p><strong>Let me know how it was! In the next chapter, the pace of the story is going to pick up a bit, and a certain character will make a reappearance. Stay tuned :)<strong>


	6. The Conversation

**A/N: Hey everyone, here's Chapter Six! As always, thanks for reviewing, and I hope you enjoy!**

The next morning, I sit at the kitchen table for breakfast. I had tried to convince my mother to let me stay upstairs, but she said it was better if I wasn't cooped up in my room from now on. She and Prim helped me down to the first floor, and now she is making me stay downstairs for the rest of the day. My mother makes Prim and I eggs and bacon for breakfast, and we sit quietly around the table, silently eating while my mother reads the newspaper. As I sit sipping the juice she has given me, the doorbell rings.

"I'll get that," my mother says. When she opens the front door, I hear her say, "She's in the kitchen, Gale." I immediately sit straighter up in my chair. When Gale enters the room, I smile for the first time in days.

"Katniss," he says, sitting down next to me, taking my hand. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," I say. He squeezes my hand.

"Gale, would you like something to eat?" My mother asks him.

"No, thank you Mrs. Everdeen. Katniss, I heard what happened-"

I shake my head. "No. Please. Don't talk about it." I take another sip of juice, ending the conversation before it has even started. Gale nods, and we all sit in silence while Prim and I continue eating.

Later, the doorbell rings again, and my mother goes to answer it. A few seconds later, I hear a bang, as if my mother is trying to close the door on someone.

"Wait-"

"Give me one good reason why I should let you in this house, Haymitch Abernathy!"

My stomach churns. It has been the first time since I have heard anything from Haymitch in months, and the first time I hear from him again, my mother is angry at him. Something is not right.

"Let me talk, Juna. Let me in the house!" My mother tries to slam the door in his face again, but I hear another bang, as if Haymitch has kicked the door back open. There is no noise for a few seconds, until my mother says, "Fine. Come in. But only for a few minutes, then you leave my house, Haymitch."

"_Sure_." I hear the door opening all the way, and then I hear footsteps coming down the hallway. Haymitch walks into the kitchen, followed by my mother. He sits down at the kitchen table, directly opposite from me. He looks horrible; half his shirt is tucked into his pants, and it looks like he has hastily buttoned up his dress shirt. His pants look dirty and wet, as if he has spilled alcohol on himself. He is unshaven, has saliva near his mouth, and his eyes are red and sunken in. It looks like he hasn't slept in weeks, hasn't eaten in days. He is holding a bottle of white liquor in his hands, and as I watch, he takes a long swig.

I stare straight at him. "Haymitch."

He wipes the liquor from his lips with the back of his hand. "Hello, sweetheart. Not looking too good, I see," he says, gesturing to my foot.

"I could say the same thing about you." Haymitch shrugs and takes another swig from his bottle. While he is sipping, Prim gets up from the table, puts her dish in the sink, then walks behind me and puts a hand on my shoulder, rubbing it supportively.

"I heard what happened yesterday. Too bad. The first time you get out of your house since the Games, and Peeta's mother is ready to bite your head off."

I flinch at the name, and put my hand on my forehead. "Yeah, well, who's to blame her, really?"

"Don't say that, Katniss." Prim squeezes my shoulder.

Haymitch shakes his head. "Let's cut to the chase, sweetheart: you're in bad shape."

"Nice observation," I spit out.

"And we have to get you out of this bad shape," he says, taking another drink of his liquor.

"Why? What good would that do?"

Before he can answer, my mother walks up behind him. I look up at her, and my eyes widen in shock; I have never seen her with so much rage in her eyes, have never seen her face so red with anger. "You said you were looking after her, Haymitch! You said you would be watching her for me!"

"I know. I _was_ watching her. I was just about to get her away from Edith when good old Patrick Mellark saved the day-"

"It was your idea to get her out of the house, by herself! You said she would be fine! And what about the Peacekeepers? You said they would be there too!"

"They all…_conveniently_ were taking a lunch break in the Hob."

My mother shakes her head. "I should never have listened to you."

Haymitche grins, and takes another drink of his spirits, pulling his head back all the way to let the liquor wash down his throat. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Katniss ended up alright, after all."

"Because a broken foot is perfectly alright," says Gale, gritting his teeth. Haymitch just laughs at him.

I shake my head. "Wait…Mom, when have you been talking to Haymitch?"

My mother glances at me. "Since…since you both got back from the Capitol."

"W-what do you mean?" An icy coldness is spreading up my spine now.

My mother clears her throat. "I've been talking to Haymitch since you got back."

"About what?"

"About…you."

I shake my head. "I…I don't understand."

Haymitch turns to me and smiles devilishly. "I'll spell it out for you, sweetheart. I told your mother to leave you alone in your room for a few weeks to let you wallow in your depression, and she did. I told her to tell Gale over here not to visit you for a few weeks, and the mayor's daughter too. I told your mother about your morphling supply. _I_ told her when it was time to let this boy and the girl come visit you. And I told your mother when it was time for you to get out of this damn house."

My hands are shaking on the table. I can't believe that Haymitch has been coaching me, my family, and my friends ever since I got back to District Twelve, even after the Games have finished. I can't believe that my mother would actually take his advice and lie to me. I can't believe she would make it seem like she was just giving me time on my own to heal, can't believe she made it look like she had my own best interests at heart. I can't believe my mother knew about the morphling for months. I can't believe that she kept Gale and Madge from me, on Haymitch's orders. And I can't believe that I didn't figure this out before now.

"Why?" I croak out.

Haymitch's eyes flash in anger, and he slams the bottle of liquor down, making the glass break into shards across the table. The rest of the liquor spills across the tabletop, and when I bring my hand up, I see that it's bleeding.

"Prim, Gale, leave the room, please," says my mother.

"Mrs. Everdeen-"

"Gale, I'm sorry, but you have to leave. Prim?" Prim lets go of my shoulder and kisses my cheek. Gale gives me one least squeeze of my shoulder, then gives me a look that says, _I'm sorry_. He follows Prim out of the room. Now, it is just me, Haymitch, and my mother left. While my mother comes over to me and begins to clean my hands, Haymitch speaks.

"Juna, please, leave too."

"Excuse me?"

"Katniss and I need a more private conversation." My mother looks at me, making sure that I'm okay. I nod at her. When she finishes cleaning my hands, she says, "I'll be right outside." Then she departs the room, leaving me alone with Haymitch.

XXX

As soon as my mother walks out of the kitchen and down the hallway, Haymitch points his finger at me, stands up, and begins to speak.

"Katniss, you need to _stop this_. The Victory Tour is in a few months, and you need to be ready. You need to get out of this…_gloominess_, and make it look like you made some damn progress. The Capitol and the districts won't put up with this for that much longer."

"_Why should I care?"_ My voice is rising now, and it takes me a while to stand up because of my leg, but finally I do. "You don't care, you've been a drunk for twenty-five years! Why can't _I_ be like that?" My whole body is shaking with anger.

Haymitch continues to point his bony finger at me. "Because I'm me, and you're you, Katniss! Now listen, and listen closely: The Capitol didn't like that you killed Peeta, obviously, but they felt bad for you because they bought into the star-crossed lover scenario. It was the end of the Games, and you looked like a lunatic after you killed him, to be blunt. They felt pity. But if you keep acting like this, they won't put up with it. They expect you to be a strong victor, like all their favorites. They expect you to rise up and be a star. They expect you to make it out okay."

"But why would they still like me if I killed Peeta?" Now I am screaming at him, my voice echoing across the room.

"Because, you're the Girl on Fire, Katniss! Don't you get it? They still like you, even after what you did! And they expect you to move on!"

"But I don't want to move on!" There are tears in my eyes now, and I feel like the world is closing in on me, like the air is shoving at my skin, like it is enclosing me in a bubble. It's not like I am exaggerating when I say I do not want to move on. Because if I do move on, if I do somehow make a life for myself, if I somehow become happy at some point in my life, my guilt at killing Peeta will only get worse, until it chokes me and kills me, destroying any happiness I may have had. Because living my life feels like the ultimate betrayal to the boy with the bread, the boy I killed.

"But you have to, or else you won't survive! They'll throw you away like an old toy!"

"Like they threw you away! They hate me Haymitch, don't lie!"

Haymitch ignores this and sits down again, no longer pointing his finger at me. "No, they don't. They've calmed down, Katniss. They're still intrigued by you, and they…want you to be okay." I shake my head, and sit back down in my chair, not fully believing what he is saying.

Haymitch points his finger at me again. "You have to get it together for the Victory Tour, Katniss. You have to pull it together in the districts as well."

"Why, what do t-they expect from me too?" I bury my face in my hands.

"They still like you as well. They feel more pity for you than the Capitol. But…they want you to be okay, too. The people don't want to see you as depressed as you are. And…" Haymitch is about to say more, but he stops himself and clears his throat.

"What?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "Nothing. Just…the people in the districts don't hate you, Katniss. That's all." I can't help noticing a slight edge to his voice, like he wants to say something else, but he can't. "Katniss, just pull yourself together. Be strong. You can still look gloomy, but don't let the depression overtake you completely. The drugs can only console you for so long." I look away from him and shake my head, putting my hand on my chin.

Haymitch gets up, walks over to my chair, and looks down at me. "Katniss, as much as you may not like it, you're a victor. A victor of the Hunger Games. _You_ need to start acting like one."

"Like a heartless victor just like the rest of them?" I say.

"No. Just brave. Strong. Strong, like you've overcome something horrible, which we all know you have. Show that your strength has helped you overcome." I just nod, telling Haymitch that I understand, but the truth is, I just don't want to talk about this anymore. The conversation has left adrenaline rushing through my veins, has made by foot throb, has made my body ache, and has made me get a headache. Now I just want to lie down and take a nap, even though I only woke up an hour ago.

"Okay, Haymitch. Whatever you want," I say, rubbing my forehead.

"One more thing. Sweetheart, look at me." I look up at him, and there is real concern in his eyes. "Katniss, next year's Games is the Quarter Quell. Think about the tributes you'll have to mentor. Think about how you'll have to try and get them out alive."

"Just like you helped all your other tributes?" I snap.

Haymitch shakes his head, sighs, and licks his lips like he wants another sip of his drink, but he can't, since the bottle's broken. "Katniss, don't be like me. Be better than me. Not just for me, but for your family, your friends, and the tributes you'll have to mentor. Be strong for them too."

I collapse in my seat, and almost fall over. I put my head in my hands, and start crying. I cry for Peeta, for the upcoming Victory Tour, the Quarter Quell, the tributes I will have to mentor, and all that Haymitch says I must become to please Panem. But I cry mostly because I don't want to please the country, Haymitch, or anyone else. I just want to be left alone in my grief.

"Haymitch, d-did _you_ have to kill someone you loved in the arena?" It's true, even if I didn't love Peeta entirely in a romantic way; there was still some affection for him in my heart. And who knows, maybe if we both could've made it out, maybe if we both hadn't been reaped for the Games…

"No. But I know how it feels to lose someone in the arena." Haymitch clears his throat, and begins walking toward the exit to the kitchen. "Juna," he says, calling her name down the hallway. My mother walks back into the room. She comes over to me and tries to stroke my hair, but I swat her hand away. I cannot forgive her for lying to me and conferring with Haymitch behind my back. Not yet.

My mother backs away from me. "Are you done, Haymitch?" He nods. He walks around my mother and comes over to me. He turns my face up and strokes my cheek. I do not even flinch like I did with my mother.

"Be strong, Girl on Fire." I think I almost see a smile coming to his lips, but when he looks up at my mother, there is a stern expression on his face. He looks at me one more time, then leaves the room, clunking down the hallway towards the front door. I hear the front door slam with a boom.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	7. The Phone Call

**Hey everyone. So...this has been a really long update. I'm so sorry, I got busy and then kind of forgot about this story. I started working on it again a few weeks ago, and now this chapter is up. I'm not going to promise to update every few days or anything, but I'll try not to update every nine months, lol.**

**So, here's Chapter Seven. I wasn't really in love with writing this chapter, but I hope you enjoy.**

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><p>The days grow into weeks and months, until it has been three months since I came back from the Capitol. In the time after my conversation with Haymitch, all I do is sit around the house, doing nothing very different than I have the past few months. I can't move around very much because of my bad leg, so I just alternate between rooms on the first floor. Prim is with me most of the time, but sometimes she leaves me for a few hours every now and then to see her friends. Whenever she's gone, usually my mother stays with me, which doesn't suit me at all. We've been extremely cool to each other since Haymitch was here, and although my mother apologized for lying to me and obeying Haymitch, I still haven't forgiven her. It feels like too much of a betrayal for her to have conferred in secret with him right after I got back home.<p>

Gale and Madge come by most days out of the week. Gale and I continue to skin game and clean out the greens, and Madge and I eat the strawberries Gale has gotten from the woods. One time when Madge is here, she tells me that the entire district really doesn't hate me, and that it is only Mrs. Mellark and her friends that do.

"Everyone else...feels sorry for you, Katniss. They don't hate you."

"But how can that be true?"

"Katniss, you made it to the very end of the Hunger Games. We all saw the position you were in. It's happened, and there's nothing anyone can do about it now." Madge strokes my hand, and smiles. I feel a little better, and we continue eating Gale's strawberries.

Madge says something else, though. "And Katniss…you don't need to punish yourself."

I look up from the strawberries. "Punish myself…about what?"

She sighs, and looks down at her hands, colored red from the strawberries. "I think you know, Katniss." She looks up at me, waiting for some sort of reaction, but I give her none. I know very well what she's talking about, but I won't listen to her. I can't. Not yet.

I nod, just to appease her, and we go back to our strawberries. My hands, I notice, are colored red like blood.

XXX

The following Sunday, Gale comes to the house. When he sees me sitting in the living room, my bad leg propped up on a footrest, he smiles.

"Katniss." He comes and kisses me on the cheek. I smile, knowing that it is a chaste kiss that a friend would give to another friend. I have missed this closeness with Gale, I realize. Despite my wanting to be alone, isolated from the world, I miss him and the friendship we had before the Games.

He sits in the chair next to me, and takes my hand. "Katniss...do you want to go to the Seam? See your old house?"

I almost pull my hand away. "The Seam? Why, Gale?"

"Just to see it. You haven't been there in so long." It's true that I haven't, but I don't understand why he wants to bring me there right now, all of a sudden.

"I...my leg is bad, I don't know if I can walk-"

"Don't worry about that. I'll help you there."

"I...I don't know..."

"Just for a little while, then we can come right back here."

I sigh, mulling it over. I have a feeling Gale won't take no for an answer. I plaster a smile on my face and say, "Fine. Let's go to the Seam."

Gale helps me up from the chair. He fishes my father's old hunting jacket out from the closet, and helps me into it. He leads me along, and I lean on him as we walk out of the front door, away from the Victor's Village and towards the rest of District Twelve. We walk in alleyways and behind houses, avoiding the people of the district. I shiver in the cold, goose bumps coming up along my arms despite the jacket. _It's too cold for autumn,_ I think.

Finally, we make our way into the Seam. I look around, noticing not much has changed. The miners are all home, since its Sunday. Children run around behind houses, having fun and making the most of this sunny Sunday afternoon. The streets are still black with coal and cinder, and the area is grimy and misshapen as always.

We pass Gale's house. Hazelle Hawthorne, Gale's mother, is washing dishes by the kitchen sink, and she sees us pass by through her open window. Gale waves and smiles, and I bring up my hand to wave, too. She grins warmly at us, and looks like she is about to say something, but we keep walking until she is no longer in sight.

Finally, we make it to my old home. I gaze out at the house where I was raised, noting that it hasn't really changed in the months I've been gone. Small, gray and squat, as always. The only thing that has changed is the new, numerous weeds sprouting around the outside walls. We walk closer to the house, and Gale opens the back door for me. I limp inside, and lean against the wall for support as I look in at the room.

The kitchen, of course, is empty, and a fine layer of dust has settled on the table and chairs. Gale comes in and helps me to the tiny living room. I put my hand out on the wall, and when I pull it back, much dust has settled on my fingers. I blow the dust off my hand; the dust particles fly around in my face, and I cough. I walk into the old bedroom, where I used to sleep with Prim. The furniture is all bare, the clothes and sheets all taken away. I walk back out, standing again in what used to be my quaint living room. While I look around the room again, I notice something fuzzy comes up against my foot. I look down and see Buttercup, Prim's cat.

"What are you doing here?" I blurt out. I've always hated this cat, and it's always hated me. Buttercup is living at the new house in the Victor's Village now because of Prim, but its here, as if it's followed me all the way to the Seam.

I can't help but asking, "You don't like the new house either, do you?" The cat hisses and nudges my leg, and I recoil. I kick him away with my good leg, and he runs into the bedroom.

I trudge back into the kitchen, where Gale is sitting at the table. He looks up at me, concern creasing his forehead.

"Are you alright, Katniss?" he asks.

I nod. "It's just so weird, with no one living here anymore."

"I know. I just wanted you to see it. To remind you of your life here."

I look down at the floor. Truthfully, due to the morphling and everything else, I have somewhat forgotten my life. I've been so caught up in the Games, Peeta's death and everything else that my old life in Twelve really hasn't registered in my mind.

"I can't go back to my old life, Gale." It's true. There's no way that after going through everything I have, that I can again become that young girl from the Seam. The one that hunted in the woods, traded in the Hob, and did everything she could to provide for her sister and mother. I think about what Madge said a few days ago, about me punishing myself. Is it possible Gale and Madge are both thinking the same thing, and they're both trying to make me move on?

He looks down at the table, making patterns in the wood with his finger. Gale gets up, and looks deep into my eyes. "I know that. But I just wanted you to remember that despite everything, you had a life worth living, and you _still _do, Katniss."

I accept this, and nod. I don't want to argue over it, so I just let it be. I stay standing in the room for a few more moments, gazing about. I breathe deeply, then ask Gale to help me out through the back door. We make our way out of the house, through the Seam, and back to the Victor's Village. When we get back to my new house, I notice that Buttercup arrives just seconds after we do, hissing and running through the front door just before Gale closes it.

XXX

A few weeks before the start of the Victory Tour, when my mother is not home and it's only me and Prim there, I ask her to look for the paper with Cinna's phone number on it. I realize that I have missed Cinna, and after all that has happened, and what event is still to come, I need to talk to him. It was so easy talking to Cinna back in the Capitol, it makes me think that maybe it would be easy to open up to him now.

I still have my cast on, so there's no way I could bend down and look for the paper anywhere. Prim searches my room, and after an hour, finds it under my bed near my almost-empty box of morphling. She hands it to me, and she helps me downstairs to the telephone. After she departs to the living room, I dial the number on the paper, and after three rings, it picks up.

"Hello?" I smile immediately, so happy to hear Cinna's voice.

"Cinna? It's Katniss Everdeen."

There is a pause, and then he answers. "Katniss. Katniss, it's so good to hear from you. How are you?"

"I'm…I'm okay. I just…I remember you giving me your number, and I just wanted to talk to you…"

"Of course, Katniss. We can talk."

I smile again. "Good." We begin to have a long conversation. I find, like I suspected, that it is so easy to open up to him. First, I tell him about my first two months back in District Twelve, how I did nothing but lie in my bed taking morphling.

"Katniss, are you still taking as much as you were before?"

"N-no. I'm still taking a little…but not as much. I've gotten off it a bit."

"Can I ask…why exactly were you taking it?"

I swallow the lump in my throat. "So I didn't feel the pain. So I could see him in my…in my dreams."

I can imagine Cinna nodding, all the way back in the Capitol. "I understand. Since you're still taking it now…do you still see him?"

I nod. "Yes. I do. Every time."

We continue talking. I tell him about Gale and Madge visiting me almost every day. I tell him that my mother and I are no longer on good terms. I tell him about my confrontation with Mrs. Mellark, and about Haymitch's visit a day later.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss. Please believe me, your entire district doesn't hate you."

"I'm not so sure." My voice breaks on the last word.

"Katniss, they know what you went through. They know, they saw. His mother is only acting like that because she wasn't very nice to begin with, and…she's very distraught. Any mother would be. She just takes it to a different level."

"I...I guess so."

We continue talking. Cinna tells me about himself, his new fashion projects and designs, his day-to-day life, and I tell him just a little bit more about my life. It is so easy to talk to Cinna, to let him know what's going on. It feels good to talk again, to talk so much at one time that my voice hurts after I speak.

Too soon, Cinna says he has to leave. He has to visit a store to get more silk for his dresses, and they're opening up now, since the Capitol is a few hours behind District Twelve.

"Oh, before I leave, Katniss, I have to ask. Do you have a talent?"

"A what?"

"A talent, for the Victory Tour."

I flinch. Now that Cinna has said it, it makes it feel so real, so close. And it _is_ close; it is only a few weeks away, just a blink of an eye.

"Not unless you count illegally hunting in the woods."

Cinna laughs. "No, I don't think that counts. Anything else?"

I try to think of something. I think of singing, but I don't think I'm that great, especially with how croaky my voice has become. And the only songs I know are mountain songs my father taught me, and those are too private to reveal to Panem.

"No, I don't think so."

"Hmm, how about this: we pretend that your talent is fashion. But I'll make you some things, and we'll just pretend you made them. I'll give you note cards on them too."

"Okay, that sounds good with me." I laugh a little.

"Great, its set then. I have to go now, Katniss. It was so great to hear from you. We can talk any time you want, whenever you can."

"It was great hearing from you too, Cinna. Yes, and I'll call you if I need to."

"Wonderful. Goodbye, Katniss."

"Goodbye."

* * *

><p><strong>So, how was it? Please review! Chapter Eight should be up relatively soon. The next chapter, the story picks up, I promise.<strong>


	8. The Speech

**A/N: Hey everyone, here's Chapter Eight. This one is a little longer, hopefully you'll like it!**

"Mother, I'll get up in a few minutes," I mumble. I turn over in my bed, rubbing my eyes. I plop my head back down on the pillow, but the knocking on my door only gets louder. I sigh, and pull myself out of bed. It's still dark outside, the snow still coming down hard, casting shadows around the room while the wind rattles the windows.

I trudge over to the door. "I'm awake," I say, and pull it open.

It feels like someone has punched me in the chest and knocked the breath out of me. I look down at the ground, my knees wobbling. I wrap my hand around my mouth to keep from screaming. His hands gently pull my arm from my face, and he leans down and kisses me right on the lips.

I pull away abruptly. "Peeta!" I gasp. He grins, his blue eyes warm and bright.

"What…I…what are you-"

He pulls me close to him, wrapping his arms around my waist. "Wishing you good luck for today, sweetheart," he says, and leans down again for another kiss. Despite my shock at him being here, alive and healthy, I can't help but wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back hard.

I pull away slowly. "I'm glad you're here, Peeta," I say. I grin up at him, about to go in for another kiss.

"_Katniss!"_

My eyes fly open, and I see my mother standing in the doorway of my bedroom. I immediately groan and shut my eyes against the bright sunlight coming through the window.

"Katniss," my mother says, walking toward my bed. "You have to get up. They'll all be here soon."

I slowly lift myself up, still rubbing sleep from my eyes. "What?"

"You have to eat breakfast and take a bath before they all get here." My mother helps me up from the bed, and leads me downstairs to the kitchen. There is a cup of tea and a dish of eggs and toast on the table, and I sit down and dig in. Prim comes into the room, already dressed and ready for the day. She kisses me on the cheek and sits down next to me.

The day I have been dreading for months is finally here. The start of the Victory Tour has arrived. For the next three weeks, I will have to tour all the districts of Panem, where everyone will have to pretend to congratulate me on my victory in the Hunger Games. I will have to look into the faces of dead tributes' families, and endure countless parties, ceremonies, and endless amounts of camera crews tracking my every move. I will have to go back to the Capitol for another interview, another feast, another ceremony, all to keep fresh the horror of the Hunger Games in the districts' minds.

After breakfast, I take a long bath, resting in the foamy water and trying to keep myself calm for the rest of the day. After I get dressed, I sit in the living room staring at the wall for hours. My heart beats fast, my legs shake and sweat forms on my neck as I play out the coming weeks' awfulness in my mind. I decide that all attempts at staying calm are useless and I resign myself to misery.

Prim comes later, and she tries to distract me by playing card games. After Prim beats me for the fifth time in a row, I hear car engines roaring down the pavement on the street, car horns honking, yelling, and sounds of greeting. Someone knocks on the door, and Prim gets up to answer it. Effie Trinket, my escort from the Capitol, runs in. She sees me sitting on the couch and skips over, picking me up into a bear hug.

"Katniss! It's so great to see you!" She grins from ear to ear. She pulls back, and resets her bright orange wig on her scalp.

"You too, Effie," I mutter.

She pats my hand and says, "I _told_ you we'd see each other soon!"

My prep team, Venia, Octavia and Flavius, walk through the front door. When they set their eyes on me, their faces break into large smiles, chanting my name and clapping their hands giddily, so much happier to see me than they were after the Games. They try to engage me in mindless small talk, but I shrug it off, leading them upstairs to my room to get my makeover done with. They set to work, waxing my eyebrows, shaving my legs and arms, putting nail polish on my fingers, fixing my hair until it is soft and silky, and applying makeup all over my face to hide the sagging and yellow tinge of my skin from the morphling. When they are done, Octavia goes downstairs to fetch Cinna.

"Katniss." Cinna smiles and walks over to me, taking me into a warm hug. He pulls back, still smiling down at me. "How are you?"

"I'm fine now." And I mean it. Now that Cinna's here, I feel less nervous and miserable, if only in the slightest.

Cinna asks my prep team to leave, then goes out in the hallway to fetch my outfit for today. He dresses me in brown pants made of warm, thick material, and helps me into a simple white button-down shirt. He hands me black heeled boots just as my mother knocks on the door. Cinna lets her in, followed in by my prep team. She blushes shyly, and braids my hair the way she did the day of the reaping. The prep team ooh's and ah's, and my mother assists Flavius with a section of my hair, correcting him and giving him some pointers. All three are so kind and respectful to her, watching intently her every move, that I almost feel bad for looking down on them and their silly frivolity.

When my mother is done, she and my prep team leave, and Cinna helps me into a thick white jacket, and drapes a red scarf around my neck. He leads me to the mirror, assessing me for any finishing touches. Looking at myself, I can tell Cinna is going for an innocent, girly look.

He nods at me through the mirror, satisfied. "You look wonderful, Katniss. All you need is a little smile," he says, and tugs my shoulders. I laugh, showing off a smile, and Cinna grins back.

We leave my room and walk downstairs. I am greeted at the bottom of the staircase with the wonderful sight of Haymitch Abernathy. Surprisingly, he has managed to clean up; his wet, clean hair is pulled back, his white shirt is tucked in his pants, and his beard has been shaved. The only thing remaining of Drunk Haymitch is his bloodshot eyes and a half-empty bottle of spirits in his hand.

He smirks at me. "Sweetheart." He comes over and rubs his hand across my cheek, but I smack it away.

He chuckles. "Looks like you've got your feistiness back. How's your leg doing? All healed up?"

"Its fine, Haymitch," I spit out, my jaw tightening.

"That's great, sweetheart. Oh, it'll be a _long_ three weeks." He laughs and walks away, taking a swig from his bottle.

Cinna comes over and hands me note cards on "my" wonderful fashion creations, and I read them off out loud for the cameras. Soon enough, my prep team, Haymitch, Cinna and Effie are all lining up by the front door. Cinna places a floppy knitted hat on my head, and my mother fixes my old Mockingjay pin to my scarf.

"For good luck," she says, then kisses my forehead. I rub the pin, and the gold feels cold on my fingers.

I give a hug to my mother, kiss Prim on the cheek and embrace her one last time, and then Effie throws me out into the cold, sunny afternoon. The cameras are waiting on the sidewalk, following me for the whole country to see as I walk outside my house toward the dark car waiting a few feet away. I don't make eye contact with them, but just focus on my boots as I trudge through the melting snow. A snowstorm had blown through the past few days, blanketing District Twelve in two feet of snow, but it cleared up just in time for the Victory Tour.

I make my way to the car. I look up, and Haymitch is staring at me from outside my house. He puts his hand up, as if waving. Grudgingly, I take his cue and wave half-heartedly at the cameras. I look back and he is grinning maniacally at me, his bloodshot eyes boring out of his head. I lean down and cough into my scarf, hiding my laugh from the cameras. I bring my head up and smile, making sure to show my teeth. My entourage walks over to me, and we all pile into the car. At the train station, more camera crews are waiting and I smile and wave as best I can. Some of them throw a microphone into my face, asking me questions, but Haymitch guides me by the elbow away from them.

We make it onto the train. As it pulls away, I keep my hand on the glass door, watching as District Twelve grows smaller and smaller. We cross through low mountains and snow pounds the windows, blocking the landscape from sight.

XXX

As the train chugs along toward District Eleven, the first stop on the tour, I retire to one of the bedrooms. I lie down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, but don't sleep. I think about how I'm going to Rue's home district, and how I will have to face her and Thresh's families. How will I look into the eyes of their relatives, knowing that I couldn't save Rue, and that neither of them is coming home?

I fish around in my coat pocket, and bring out some morphling. I'd sneaked the last of it into my pockets before leaving the house, and as the train rocks along through the snow, I take some into my mouth, immediately relaxing and forgetting my problems as the drug pulls me under. I lay in bed, entering the dream world with Peeta again. As Peeta and I fly through the clouds, laughing, kissing and running around, a fierce tugging pulls me out of my trance.

I open my eyes, and I see Haymitch looking down at me, just like he did the day I woke up in the hospital after the Games. I sigh and try to get up, but my head starts ringing and I flop back down.

Haymitch grabs me roughly by the arm, pulling me up. He puts his hand under my chin, and forces me to look straight into his bloodshot eyes.

"We need to have a talk, sweetheart." He points his finger in my face.

"Let me _go_, Haymitch," I gasp. He sneers and grabs around the bed for the morphling, opens one of the windows and throws it out into the snow.

"No." He grabs me roughly and pulls me along. He reaches down on the floor and throws my hat and scarf at me, and I pull it on quickly as we make our way out into the hallway. He pulls me to the doors leading outside the train, which must've stopped for a bit to refuel while I was pulled under by the morphling. Haymitch leads me down the pathway, as far away from the train as possible. I shiver in the cold despite my hat and scarf, and finally he sets me down next to a snow bank several yards away from the train.

He looks down at me, still grasping my arm. "Katniss, get off the morphling for now. We can't have you drugged up as you address the districts."

"We're not arriving to Eleven until tomorrow. And if I remember correctly, _you're_ the one who gave the morphling to me." I manage to wrench myself free from his grasp, but he just grabs my shoulder again roughly.

He shakes his head. "When you're in Twelve, you can take it, but not now. You need to be alert for the districts and not look like those drug addicts from Six."

I'm not exactly sure what he means by District Six, but I'm annoyed at the other part he said. "I am _not_ a drug addict, Haymitch."

"You're acting like one," he answers gruffly.

The fury rises in me and I start yelling at him, my words slurring because of the morphling. "Oh, look whose talking, the drunken mentor from Twelve who can't pull it together enough to save his any of his tributes!"

As soon as I say it, I wish I hadn't. I put my hand over my mouth, and shake my head. Now, all I'm thinking of is Peeta, and I know that Haymitch must've beat himself up over his death almost as much as I did, drowning himself in spirits to escape the pain.

"I…Haymitch, I didn't mean-" He pulls his hand from my shoulder, and walks away. I hear him muttering about how he should've never gone to Ripper for the morphling.

He rubs his chin, and turns to me. "Katniss, this Victory Tour is serious. Act depressed, if you must, but don't look like you're on drugs."

He starts to walk away, but turns back. "Any more morphling?" he asks. I shake my head. I have a feeling that there will be no box waiting at home for me for next month, or the rest of the year, for that matter.

Haymitch chuckles. "I'm getting sick of these pep talks, sweetheart. But know that the whole country and-" he stops himself, and clears his throat. "The whole country is watching you." He starts walking back to the train, and I follow him a few feet behind. Just before we walk through the door back inside, he turns to me.

"And you know what, sweetheart? I sobered myself up enough to save you. Maybe I sobered up for the wrong tribute. Just remember that." Before I can respond, he rushes inside.

XXX

In my dreams that night, I'm with Peeta, smiling and laughing and speaking as if nothing's wrong, as if we were awake and he was alive and healthy. The dream ends too soon when Effie knocks rapidly on my door early in the morning. I spend the rest of the morning getting done up by my prep team, and after Cinna dresses me in a long, silky turquoise gown. He finds my Mockingjay pin in my room and places it directly over my heart.

He puts me in beige sandals, and I look at myself in the mirror. My dress snakes its way all the way down to my toes, and it looks elegant with just the right touch of girliness. My makeup is light and airy, and my skin no longer looks yellow or sagging. I look into my eyes, and immediately spot the unmistakable look of sadness I've had since the Games. No amount of makeup or beautiful outfits could disguise the desolation I constantly feel.

By noon, District Eleven comes into view through the windows. I am taken aback; a large fence dots the landscape, interspersed with watchtowers every few yards. There is no way that anyone could break through this fence, not like at home. Eleven spreads out for miles and miles, so much larger than Twelve. In the fields, men, women and children are all out collecting crops for the harvest, and I see orchards spread out farther back from the fence. I imagine Rue would be there today if she were alive, singing her four-note tune from the tops of the trees.

Soon, we make our way to the train station. It is hot, humid and sunny, much different from the frigid cold of my district this time of year. Cameras wait for us at the station, but as soon as we step onto the pavement, a group of Peacekeepers escort us to the back of a truck, where we all pile in. Effie looks unsettled; she must be thinking we should be riding in a nice car, not a heavily-guarded truck.

We make it to the district's main square, where the Justice Building stands. It is a large, towering marble structure, but the building looks to be in disrepair, with vines covering its crumbling walls. The entire square looks run-down too, making District Twelve look opulent by comparison.

The Peacekeepers push us out of the truck and through the back door of the Justice Building. We are taken to a large room in the front of the building, with sofas, paintings, desks and rugs, but the sunlight streaming through the large windows only illuminates the room's shabbiness. As we wait, Effie runs through the schedule one more time. I am to make a short speech out on the verandah outside the building, addressing the district. Prim and my mother drilled the speech into me just weeks before the start of the tour, but I am also supposed to make my own expected speech for my former ally, Rue. At home, whenever I tried to write something, I would just end up staring at the piece of paper for hours, random words crowding my mind but nothing coming together. Thinking about Rue again only made my heart ache and then made me crave morphling to get away from the pain.

Following the speeches, a special dinner will be held in my honor in the Justice Building, after which we will pile back onto the train, making our way to District Ten, the next stop on the tour. Soon, I am given last minute makeup adjustments, and then the Peacekeepers are walking me towards the front door to the verandah. The mayor of Eleven announces my name, the doors open and I am pushed out into the blazing hot afternoon.

XXX

I gaze out at the square, taking note of the many people assembled. This must be just a tiny fraction of the entire district's population, since farmers must be needed in the fields and the district is just too big to try to assemble the people in this tiny square at one time.

I am led over to a chair in the center of the verandah, and off to my right, the mayor makes a speech in my honor. I look down, and see the special platform set up for family members of the dead tributes. A woman I assume is Thresh's grandmother sits stern and upright, but her eyes betray a deep look of despair. A younger tall, muscular girl sits next to her, who must be Thresh's sister. To their right sits Rue's family. Her five younger siblings look so much like her; small and lithe like birds, one of the girl's arms extended slightly from her body like wings, just what her sister used to do. Her parents sit sad and hunched, their faces turned down, the loss of Rue still fresh and terrible in their minds.

The mayor ends his speech, and I am given an elaborate plaque and large bouquet of flowers. It is time now for me to make my speech in front of District Eleven.

I walk closer to the edge of the verandah, set down my flowers, and look across the square. Hundreds of faces stare up at me, and for a moment I am paralyzed with fear. I notice the cameras at the edges of the square, all trained in on me, broadcasting this moment across Panem. I clear my throat, and the words that Prim and my mother drilled in me come out of my mouth, surprisingly unshaken, confident and loud. I try to make eye contact with the crowd, but every time a pair of eyes sets on me, a cold hand takes hold of my heart and I have to turn away, looking at some point above their head.

_Just don't look, just keep talking, just keep going,_ I drill into my head over and over.

Finally, I make it through my scripted speech, but I know I still have to make my own special words to Rue and Thresh's families. Although I have not thought of anything to say to them the past month, the words come out of me as if they'd been there all along, memorized and meaningful.

"I'd like to give my thanks to the tributes of District Eleven." I turn first to Thresh's sister and grandmother. "I only spoke to Thresh just once, but it was long enough for him to spare my life. I admired him for his strength, and his refusal to play the Games on anyone's terms but his own. I respected him for that, for his courage." Thresh's grandmother gives a slight smile at that, a look of pride in her eyes.

I turn to Rue's family. I look into the eyes of her younger siblings, who look so much like my former ally. I clear my throat again, and begin to speak.

"But…I _did_ know Rue. Her beauty, strength and kindness will always be with me. I…I see her everywhere. In the sound of the mockingjays, in the flowers like the ones I gave her in the arena-" my voice breaks as I remember, and I look down.

I breathe through my mouth, and look back at her family. "But…most of all, I see her in my younger sister, Prim. Her demeanor, her size, her kindness, and her beauty will always remind me of Rue." I look over and see tears silently streaming down Rue's mother's face.

I glance at both Thresh and Rue's families and say, "Thank you for your children." I smile, and reach down to pick up my flowers, finally starting to relax. I begin to move back toward the doors to the Justice Building, when I remember something I forgot to say. I turn back abruptly, holding up my hand to the Peacekeepers who were about to escort me inside. I turn to the crowd, and before I can process what I'm doing, the words spill out of me, like water spilling over a dam.

"Wait! I'd also like to thank all of District Eleven." I pause and glance across the crowd. "For the bread."

I look out at the crowd for a few moments, and see looks of recognition in some of their faces. I nod at the Peacekeepers, and they begin to lead me back inside. I turn back and wave at the crowd one last time, but then I do something I know I shouldn't. But I can't control it, just like I couldn't control what I just said to the crowd. Even though I said and did more than I already needed to, I still put my three middle fingers to my mouth and then extend them out to the people in the square. It is the gesture of District 12, and the last goodbye I gave to Rue in the arena.

The Peacekeepers begin shoving me toward the doors, but before the doors close behind me, I turn my head and see the people in the square, what looks to be all of them, extending their arms and returning the gesture to me. The Peacekeepers follow my gaze, and when they turn back to me, I can see a hint of fury in their eyes.

_What have I done?_ I think.

**A/N:** **Sorry I had to end it there, but it was necessary. I hope you enjoyed, next chapter should be up in a few days!**


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